Poetry Break by Michael Lee Johnson

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.”
― Plato

Editor’s note:

This is an excellent collection of poems by yet another widely published poet. We at Two Drops of Ink have been honored with the attraction of many extremely talented writers and poets for publication to the site. I think you’ll become an instant fan of Michael Lee Johnson’s work. Enjoy.

Reincarnation (V2)

Next life I will be a little higher on the pecking order.

No longer a dishwasher at the House of Pancakes,

or Ricky’s All Day Grill, or Sunday night small dog thief.

I will evolve into the Prince of Bullfrogs, crickets don’t bother,

swamp flies don’t bother me-I eat them. Alligators I avoid.

I urinate on lily pads mate across borders, continents at will.

Someone else from India can wash my dishes locally for me.

Forward all complaints to that religious office of Indian affairs.

Detective Poetic Johnson Here

December 1st 2016,

detective Johnson here.

I see my shrink for the 1st time,

I’m low maintenance, one every 3 months,

Dr. Pennypecker. He is tight ass conservative type

with a raisin dry personality who tries to keep sober

and focused so he can focus on me.

I’m a grade 3 drop out with a degree

in elementary school bullshit.

I ask him how his children are.

“I only have one, let’s focus on YOU!”

Nice haircut, Dr. Pennypecker,

have you ever noticed how the poor people

who usually come here, are Mexicans,

and they all can afford a $60 a month cell phone?

“Let’s stay focused!”

I tell Dr. Pennypecker I love Jesus, I love the Holy Ghost,

I love the Father; most of these Mexicans do too.

With all these rain clouds up above outside this window here,

I believe we are all together until I pass.

“Now that is interesting, let’s focus on that!”

I tell Dr. Pennypecker when I get upset about something

I know is my fault and I do have problems

sleeping but I don’t dwell on that too much.

“Let’s focus on that!”

Is 20 milligrams of Citalopram, antidepressants, generic,

enough or should we cut it back?

Oh no, don’t do that Dr. Pennypecker. By the way, Dr. Pennypecker,

how do you cut your hair in the back when you have your own Wal-Mart

Pro Clipper Haircutting Kit set on # 2?

“I put a paper back there and I put a mirror back there and I sort of do,

no, no, let’s not focus on that!”

I walk out the door ready for my next appointment 3 months down the road.

I open the door for a stranger ready for his appointment; I say, “have a good day.”

He is so self-centered, that his long hair and the way he moves back and forth

sways, swings, doesn’t say anything he is so damn self-absorbed in his own gray cloud.

This was my day with Dr. Pennypecker.

I Edit My Life (V2)

I edit my life.Clothesline pins & clips
hang to dry
dirty laundry.
I turn poetic hedonistic
in my early 70’s,
reviewing the joys
and the sorrows
of my journey.
I find myself wanting
a new review, a new product,
a new time machine,
a new internet space,
a new planet where
we small, wee creative
creatures can grow.

Day Time Bitch & Nighttime Whore (2)

Fern Dickson life untrue to her marital vows, peachy,

what did you expect from the Indiana Rockville whore?

Daddy was welder man, sweat, bleeder bending

over hot steel rolls all day, he was a verb man,

Oliver farmer, noun, welder machine man.

Fern Dickson was a sneak out the door whore, peachy,

2:30 pm. daily was her homemaker check out time.

Waddling penguin style down to Kubiak’s bar

to write her own mystery novel.

Demolition of their marriage, started with table hopping at the bar,

peachy, free drinks and a celebration of wholesale sex.

Narrative, family circles and circuses run in the gypsies of whores,

daddy dog, dancing sin, with the Rockville whore.

Daddy comes home from work,

angered at the burned potato fries,

cold Sauerkraut, Bush’s fresh out of the can,

maple cured baked beans, cold Cole Slaw, A&P grocery store.

Narrative, old prostitute whore habits die-hard.

Coon hunting, fox hunting daddy, I’m the storyteller

of this Rockville, Indiana whore.

Her brass tits suck then stuck in the mouths of strangers at the local bar, peachy.

Fern has no regular job, bar hopping, table jumping,

became her unemployment check, salary, entertainment and career, peachy.

This cemetery now is Archangel Lucifer, secretary, note taker

for the Rockville whore.

Children in the Sky (V2)

There is a full moon,

distant in this sky tonight,

Gray planets planted

on an aging white, face.

Children, living and dead,

love the moon with small hearts.

Those in heaven already take gold thread,

drop the moon down for us all to see.

Those alive with us, look out their

bedroom windows tonight,

we smile, then prayers, then sleep.

Lilly, Lonely Trailer Prostitute (V2)

Paint your face with cosmetic smiles.

Toss your breast around with synthetic plastic.

Don’t leak single secrets to strangers-

locked in your trailer 8 foot wide by 50 foot long

with twisted carrots, cucumbers, weak batteries,

and colorful dildos-you’ve even given them names:

Adams’s pleasure skin, big Ben on the raise, Rasputin:

the Mad Monk-oh no, no, no.

Your legs hang with the signed signatures

of playboys and drifters ink.

The lot rent went up again this year.

Paint your face, walk the streets

again with cosmetic smiles.

Author’s Bio:

Michael Lee Johnson

Michael Lee Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era. He is a Canadian and USA citizen. Today he is a poet, editor, publisher, freelance writer, amateur photographer, small business owner in Itasca, Illinois. He has been published in more than 930 small press magazines in 33 different countries or republics, and he edits 10 poetry sites.Author’s websitehttp://poetryman.mysite.com/. Michael is the author of The Lost American: From Exile to Freedom (136 page book) ISBN:978-0-595-46091-5, several chapbooks of poetry, includingFrom Which Place the Morning Rises and Challenge of Night and Day, and Chicago Poems. He also has over 134 poetry videos on YouTube as of 2015: https://www.youtube.com/user/poetrymanusa/videosMichael Lee Johnson, Itasca, IL nominated for 2 Pushcart Prize awards for poetry 2015 and 2 Best of the Net nominations poetry 2016 and 2017. Visit his Facebook Poetry Group and join https://www.facebook.com/groups/807679459328998/He is also the editor/publisher of anthology, Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze:http://www.amazon.com/dp/1530456762A second poetry anthology, Dandelion in a Vase of Roses, Editor Michael Lee Johnson, is now available here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1545352089

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Published by S.W. Biddulph

Scott Biddulph is a published writer, author, and poet from North Georgia. He began writing as a youngster and followed his lifelong dream of reaching people through the written word when he returned to The University of North Georgia in 2013 to finish earning his BA/English with a concentration on publication and creative writing. His publications include the following: an eBook, Apples of Gold: A collection of inspirational short stories and poems (Smashwords, 2010) and a paperback, Voices from the Heart, (Createspace, 2012). His poetry is published in Papers and Publications Undergraduate Research Journal. Vol 3 (2014) and the award-winning Chestatee Review (Spring, 2015), among other places (Check his LinkedIn profile for a full list of his publications). He is currently working on publishing poetry, creative non-fiction, academic essays, and his memoir.
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Scott has also worked as an intern editor for the University of North Georgia Press. As a freelance editor, he has done the layout and design of several books and magazines. He is currently working with several authors on various publication projects in which he is either ghostwriting, editing manuscripts, or doing the layout and design of their books.
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Finally, and most importantly, he is a father, grandfather, husband, and dedicated Harley Davidson rider. He and his family enjoy the beauty of the North Georgia Mountains where they live—especially their screened in back porch where they love to bird watch.
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~ "I love realism. I love writing about the raw, down-to-Earth, heartfelt realities of life. I love to write in a way that reaches into the human soul—to take the greatest pains and struggles in life, and make them a blessing to others. Fantasy is a wonderful, interesting thing—but real-life situations, feelings, fears, and dreams are an unexplored ocean of stories that need to be told." ~
~Scott Biddulph~
View all posts by S.W. Biddulph

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